توضیحات
· Black · Red 71 · Parlor Trick · One, Two, Three · Murder In Blue · Pigeon Blood · Pineapple A SELECTION FROM THE FIRST Black THE MAN “McCary.” “No.” I shook my head and started to push past him, and he “McCary,” again thickly, and then he crumpled into a heap on the wet sidewalk. It was dark there, there wasn't anyone on the street—I could have walked away. I started to walk away and then the sucker instinct got the best of me and I went back and bent over him. I shook him and “Come on, chump—get up out of the puddle.” A cab came around the corner and its headlights shone on me—and there I was, stooping over a drunk whom I'd never seen before, who thought my name was McCary. Any big-town driver would have pegged it for a stick-up, would have shoved off or sat still. That wasn't a big town—the cab slid alongside the curb and a fresh-faced kid stuck his face into the light from the meter and “Where to?” I “No place.” I ducked my head at the man on the sidewalk. “Maybe this one'll ride—he's paralyzed.” The kid “Tch, tch.” He opened the door and I stooped over and took hold of the drunk under his armpits and jerked him up and across the sidewalk and into the cab. He was heavy in a funny limp way. There was a hard bulge on his left side, under the arm. I had an idea. I asked the “Who's McCary? He looked self-consciously blank for a minute and then he “There's two—Luke and Ben. Luke's the old man-owns a lot of real estate. Ben runs a pool-hall.” “Let's go see Ben,” I said. I got into the cab. We went several blocks down the dark street and then I tapped on the glass and motioned to the kid to pull over to the curb. He stopped and slid the glass and I “Who's McCary?” “I told you.” I “What about him?” The kid made the kind of movement with his shoulders that would pass for a shrug in the sticks. “I told you—he runs a pool-hall.” I “Listen. This guy came up to me a few minutes ago and said 'McCary'—this guy is very dead.” The kid looked like he was going to jump out of the cab. His eyes were hanging out. I waited. The kid swallowed. He “Let's dump him.” I shook my head slightly and waited. “Ben and the old man don't get along—they've been raising hell the last couple of weeks. This is the fourth.” He jerked his head towards the corpse beside me. “Know him?” He shook his head and then—to be sure—took a flashlight out of the side-pocket and stuck it back through the opening and looked at the man's dead face. He shook his head again. I “Let's go see Ben.” “You're crazy, Mister. If this is one of Ben's boys he'll tie you up to it, and if it ain't...” “Let's go see Ben.” Ben McCary was a blond fat man, about forty—he smiled a great deal. We sat in a little office above his pool-hall and he smiled heartily across all his face and “Well, sir—what can I do for you?” “My name is Black. I came over from St. Paul—got in about a half hour ago.” He nodded, still with the wide hearty smile; stared at me cordially out of his wide-set blue eyes. I went “I heard there was a lot of noise over here and I thought I might make a connection—pick up some change.” McCary juggled his big facial muscles into something resembling innocence. “I don't know just what you mean, Buddy,” he said. “What's your best game?” “What's yours?” He grinned again. “Well,” he said, “you can get plenty of action up in the front room.